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He wasn’t entirely certain what led to this: only moments earlier they were sharing comfortable silence reading in front of the fire. Now Amina was straddling his lap, and his hands were wandering up the backs of her stocking-clad thighs. He didn’t mind the sudden closeness of her, however, and it was most endearing how tenderly she handled the delicate spine of Thanatochemistry: A Survey of General, Organic, and Biochemistry for Mortuary Professionals when she plucked it from his hands and set it aside before kissing him.
She sighed into him as her tongue found his and she deepened their embrace, tasting of peppermint, and hunger, and joy combined. Like everything in her life, Amina approached their relationship with deliberately calculated abandon: a trait which seemed contradictory by definition to anyone who had spent less than ten minutes in her remarkable presence. For a person so steeped in death and all its complex trappings, the foundling of the Necropolis certainly lived - and loved - passionately.
He wondered if she knew what power she held over him: that with a single well-placed look she could drive the breath from his lungs and set his heart racing.
Her arms slid around his shoulders and she pressed herself against him, clearly keen to banish any remaining space between them. Her hips rolled against his while his hand snaked further up her skirt to impart her shapely rear a squeeze as he parted from his beloved and regarded her with half-lidded eyes.
“I had no idea that you found Wolfelt’s ‘Companioning The Bereaved’ to be such stimulating subject matter, darling.”
Amina made a dismissive sound that was something between a purr and a growl as she sat back and began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat with fingers that were rough, callused, and somewhat crooked from numerous breaks over the years. Weathered as her hands were, her touch was disarmingly gentle and controlled. “Wolfelt is a trite hack,” she opined, her lips quirking upwards as she worked and he drew small circles over the bare flesh of her upper thigh, tracing the raised lines of the scars that dwelled there.
“Yet you read his works.” Emmrich raised a brow, returning her smirk with one of his own, the tightness of his pants becoming more difficult to ignore with each passing second: as his hands roamed under her skirt, it became clear to him that there was no possible way that Amina could be wearing underthings.
“There’s occasionally a useful anecdote to be found if one has the patience to comb through all the self-congratulatory bullshit.” She shifted against him - it could have been a meaningless repositioning to keep the blood flowing, but Emmrich knew better. “Besides, you were making it hard to focus, and I need to focus to get through that dreck, so I decided I’d rather be kissing you instead.” She unfastened his collar clip and tucked it carefully into one of the pockets of his waistcoat so it wouldn’t get lost, and set to work on his shirt buttons.
“Such language, dear.”
“My apologies, love,” she crooned, pulling his shirt aside and placing a warm, sucking kiss on his bare chest, directly over his heart: a tender gesture that contrasted scandalously with another undulation of her hips. “I should conduct myself with more decorum around a celebrated academic like you.” She dragged her fingernails down his chest, through the thatch of well-groomed hair above his sternum. “But I’ve got another colourful word in mind if you’ll humour me: it’s a crowd favourite… starts with an ‘f’...”
If he didn’t know any better, he might think she’d been possessed by a spirit of prurience, but no - this was just how she was: confident in her sexuality, and utterly unafraid of the erotic splendor of the flesh.
He thought it rather adorable when she acted like he wasn’t capable of softening her into malleable clay in his hands - handling her with such meticulous skill and care that by the end of their entanglement she was so adequately fulfilled and loved that she could barely stand…
She tipped his face up with her fingers under his chin and locked her eyes on his. “Emmrich…” she whispered lustily, “I want you to fu— ah!” Her hips jolted when he pinched her behind and he stifled a groan at the jolt of sensation that ran straight through his cock that was straining against the confines of his pants at this point. She ground herself against him knowing this - her revenge for the pinch. “I was going to ask you to feel this bump on my head that I got the other day! What did you think I was going to say?!”
“My dear, I would almost believe you if it wasn’t for the fact that you appear to have misplaced your panties at some point during the course of the evening.” His hand drifted around to her front, still under her skirt, and she shuddered atop him as he tenderly swept his index finger through her exposed heat, finding her to be quite aroused. He brought the finger to his mouth and watched Amina’s cheeks flush slightly as he tasted her: the sweetness of her essence on his tongue made his mind hazy and his cock throb… she was intoxicating. “Oh dear, I truly must have distracted you for you to be this… ready for me, darling.”
It quickly became evident to Emmrich after the first few occasions that they made love that his dear Rook responded just as favourably to positive affirmations in an intimate setting as she did during a frenzied battle to the death. So naturally he used this knowledge to the fullest extent of his capabilities whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself… to great effect.
“‘Misplaced’ implies it was accidental…” She closed her eyes and smiled, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he touched her again. She palmed him through the fabric of his pants and drew her lower lip through her teeth, luxuriating in the slight stretch of his index and middle fingers inside of her, his thumb circling her bud with just the right amount of pressure.
“I like your new shoes… Antivan satin?” He inquired politely as if he wasn’t knuckle deep in her dripping sex, his many bangles chiming softly in rhythm with his movements.
He glanced down at her feet as he started slipping the buttons of her shirt free: one of the shoes in question catching the firelight - they were light blue, wrapped in a fabric that was almost metallic. The heel was tall and slender - her preferred style. It was a marvel that she was able to walk in them, but they were indeed pretty and she was very fond of her collection of shoes. He was of the mind that she entirely deserved to enjoy delicate, dainty things when so much of her energy was dominated by that which was brutal and sharp.
She nodded and writhed against his hand, whimpering almost distractedly as she did so. “Thank you for noticing them.”
“They’re very nice: you have impeccable taste, my dear.” He squeezed one of her breasts with his free hand and slipped another slender finger into her, working slowly to avoid causing her any pain. “Would you mind lending me a hand, Amina? I’m afraid that my own are full.” He glanced down between them at his bulging trousers, and he didn’t have to wait for a response as her hands flew to the fastenings of his pants and he shifted a little to make it easier for her to access his cock. His breath caught in his throat the instant he felt her warm hand on him, her thumb spreading the wetness that had beaded on his tip over his length as her strong fingers wrapped around him. “Oh - that feels so good, darling,” he groaned, giving himself over to the arousal that had been building within him.
He watched Amina react to his praise and the proportional escalation of his touch. Truth told, he would be perfectly content to gaze upon her blissful expression from his current vantage point for hours - the light flutter of her eyelids and the slight furrow of her brow; her trailing black hair slipping like a silken mantle of night over her shoulders and tickling his chest as she arched into him, the very shape of her etching itself into his mind so artfully he knew he would see her image every time he closed his eyes for the remainder of his days.
“Look at you… you’re perfect.”
She clenched around him, her thighs tightening further against him and trembling ever so slightly - Emmrich’s favourite tell that his beloved was near the edge. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder and her breaths fell from her, rapid and brief. “I’m - ah - Emmrich, I’m going to cum.”
He curled his fingers slightly towards himself, and she invoked the names of gods that no longer existed as he found the place within her core that he knew made her see stars. She collapsed forward, bracing herself with her hand on the back of the chair, practically riding his hand, coating his many rings with her slick as she sped towards release.
“That’s it, darling…” He trailed soft kisses down her neck. “You’re doing so well. I love when you come undone for me…”
She peaked with his name on her lips, false gods forgotten, and he worshiped her through her elation with his mouth on her breasts and her neck, and his hands roving the holy lines and curves of her body. He uttered loving sentiments between affectionate kisses and reveled in the melody of her shaky moans as the waves of her pleasure waned.
Emmrich had seen many beautiful things in his day, but not a single one of them could compare to the sight of Amina before him, pale skin flushed, her lips swollen from kissing and the same shade of rosy pink as the old scar that ran over her left eye and down her cheek - he traced the shape of it with his thumb as he lost himself in her slightly glazed eyes. “My good girl… you’re such a treasure,” he murmured.
She made a growl of feigned exasperation. “You know what that does to me.”
“And I’m never going to stop.” He pulled her tight to him, his arm around her waist, and kissed her hungrily, his tongue sliding against hers as he deftly hiked up her skirt, and positioned her so that he was lined up with her dripping sex. He hesitated and put off penetrating her in favour of tugging on the end of the ties that held Amina’s skirt in place, sending the garment to the floor, her blouse immediately following: now she was completely naked aside from her dark stockings and the garters they were attached to… and her ostentatious shoes, of course.
Her pale nipples peaked and gooseflesh ran up her arms and legs, but he knew it wasn’t because she was cold.
“Are you going to fuck me or what?”
It didn’t even cross his mind to bemoan her choice of words as he lowered her onto his almost painfully hard cock: watching it disappear into her body was so lewdly captivating that he couldn’t be bothered to care about something as unimportant as profanity.
They moaned in unison as he stretched her, Emmrich keenly aware of every decadent ridge lining her hot core as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her.
“I love you so much,” she said breathlessly, resting her forehead against his and rocking her hips slowly, squeezing him with her knees, setting a languid, intimate pace.
“I love you too,” he rasped, swallowing thickly at the mounting intensity of each shallow stroke that set his nerves on fire: it didn’t matter how many times they consummated their love - every time felt like the first time. He caressed her rear, gently guiding her patient thrusts as they connected, body and soul. “I daresay I’m the luckiest man alive.”
“Oh Emmrich…”
“Amina…”
“I would stay this way with you forever if I could.” She slipped her curtain of hair back over her shoulder and tilted her hips slightly, causing him to drag over the rough patch of sensitive nerves inside of her. She whined and repeated the motion as Emmrich’s fingers revisited the other sensitive spot just below the soft triangle of dark hair between her legs.
“As would I, darling. Knowing you so intimately is nothing short of exquisite.” He hugged her tightly and buried his nose in her hair, feeling her heartbeat against his. Life was fleeting and uncertain, but the certainty of this moment outweighed every apprehension he burdened himself with.
Words no longer served any meaningful purpose as they gave themselves to one another entirely, entwined and entangled: there was only their heavy breathing punctuated by the occasional gasp or moan, and the slick tempo of their joining, fine golden bangles singing, and the soft crackle of the nearby fire.
Emmrich felt her tighten around him, her thrusts becoming sloppy and desperate as that telltale quiver in her thighs made itself known again. He felt his hips rising to meet hers as his climax closed in as well. He twisted some of her hair around his long fingers, taking deliberate care not to pull - he wanted to feel its satin texture against his fingertips. “We’ll go together…” he panted, a strand of his own hair slipping loose and falling across his forehead. He shook it from his eyes and kissed her. “I’ve got you, darling… I’ve got you.”
A strangled moan slipped from her as she found release for the second time that evening, her walls contracting and pulsating around Emmrich and sending him hurtling over the edge as well: he gasped, took her hand and squeezed it tightly as tightly wound desire gave way to undulating swells of sheer rapture coursing through his being, claiming every corner of his soul.
He spent himself within her amazing heat, and her legs caged his hips like a vice as she rode out her lingering climax, chanting his name and softly muttering various elvhen endearments as she so often did when they made love - ‘vhenan’ was the one that he loved the most, but they were all beautiful.
Still joined and in no hurry to separate, Emmrich kissed Amina’s hand and offered her a dashing smile as she softly dragged her fingers through his mussed hair. “Fair to say my capacity to focus on a book is completely shot.” He sighed, his voice rough from their exertions. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He continued peppering the back of her hand with kisses. “Shall we retire to bed, dear?”
“A fine idea,” Amina conceded, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, if you’re up for it I was thinking we could…” She glanced over her shoulder conspiratorially and even though they were completely alone, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear before sitting back and raising an eyebrow suggestively. “That is… if you want to.”
His half-hard cock twitched inside of her at her scandalous suggestion, and he traced a line up her abdomen, softly tugging on a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “You always come up with such imaginative ideas,” he purred, giving the nipple a light pinch before standing and setting Amina on her feet, her heels clicking on the floor beneath her. He shrugged the rest of the way out of his shirt and waistcoat, tossing them carelessly on the chair behind him as Amina snatched his hand and started dragging him towards the stairs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she shot him a coquettish smile, and they disappeared into the darkness where their bedroom waited.
He knew neither of them would get much sleep that night.